


Moonlight Serenade

by FlavorofKylo



Category: Black KKKlansman (2018), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 1700's, Alternate Universe - 1970s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Breeding Kink, Crossover Pairings, Deja Vu, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Flashbacks, Freeform, Full Shift Werewolves, Knotting, Lycans, Magical Realism, Mating Moon, No beta we die like Amazons, Non-Linear Narrative, Oral Sex, Past Lives, Praise Kink, Romance, Shapeshifting, Size Kink, Soulmates, Time Skips, Visions in dreams, Voice Kink, Werewolf Sex, Werewolves, slowish burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:48:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26459725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlavorofKylo/pseuds/FlavorofKylo
Summary: After answering a call one night, Flip is attacked by a wolf-like creature and wakes up in the hospital.  The Chief of Emergency Medicine, Dr. Jannah Dubois, takes a special interest in his care.
Relationships: Flip Zimmerman/Jannah, Jannah & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 9
Kudos: 69





	1. Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story about love that crosses the boundaries of time. And yes, about Lycans. (The differences between Lycans and werewolves is explained in Ch. 3)
> 
> This story is set circa 1978-79, several years after the events in Black Kkklansman.
> 
> Much love to my wonderful alpha reader, LadyofReylo. :)

Sunday evening-October, 1978. Colorado Springs General Hospital

Consciousness returned gradually as Flip lay in his bed. He had the sensation of floating upwards, as if from underwater, bringing with it a painstaking return of his senses. His body ached, and he hesitated to open his eyes. The room was silent but for a soft, persistent beeping of the heart monitor. At last, Flip’s eyes fluttered open and trailed across the room.

Hospital. That would explain the pain. He couldn’t remember what had brought him there; all he was aware of was nagging pain in his side. He tried to lift his left arm to touch it—

“Mr. Zimmerman? Are you in pain?”

His eyes flashed over to the nurse. He opened his mouth to speak and realized his throat was parched—drier than the Sahara. “How—how long have I been here?” he rasped.

She sighed heavily. “Three days,” she said. “Paramedics brought you in late Thursday night, you were badly injured, and--incoherent. Let me get the doctor.”

Flip tried to speak again but settled for gesturing toward the pitcher of water on the side table. She poured him a cupful and he drained it immediately before gratefully accepting a second. The nurse watched him with concerned eyes.

“Let me call Doctor Dubois,” she said.

Once she had she disappeared from the room, Flip settled back, looking around for his things. His holster and jacket were hanging in a nearby closet, but he didn’t see his weapon. Probably locked up somewhere.

His attention was seized by the figure in a white lab coat who strode through his door with a graceful, yet purposeful stride. His breath caught, and he found himself staring. She was tall, with heavy, dark curls that fell around her shoulders and a flawless, cocoa-brown complexion. Her luminous, dark eyes flashed with a cool intelligence. She was lovely, and it was clear that this woman was nobody’s fool.

“Good evening, Detective Zimmerman. How are you feeling?” Her voice was musical, with the hint of a British accent. For a minute, Flip forgot how shitty he felt, caught up as he was by her magnificence.

“Erm, better, thank you. I-I do have some pain, but…” he shrugged it off, wanting to be the tough guy he was in everyday life.

She smiled. “We’ll get you something for that,” she breezed. “I’m Doctor Dubois, Chief Physician of Emergency Medicine. I was here the night you were brought in. I examined you myself. Do you remember anything from that night?”

Flip scrubbed a big hand down his face as he thought. “I know I was called in on a 10-14, that’s a prowler report. There was a house in the area, we thought it was a stalker—the woman who lived in the home was a single mother. All I know is, something knocked me down and bit me. It was dark as hell, and I could hardly see, but I’m pretty sure it was a wolf, or maybe a coyote. I managed to get off a couple of shots and it took off.”

Dr. Dubois nodded. “Yes, what you describe corresponds with my examination. But you were found in the city. I'm not aware that there were any wolves walking around in Colorado Springs..."

"Good point..."

"But even if there were," she continued, "wolves don’t generally bite humans. You are aware of that, aren’t you Detective Zimmerman?

“Call me Flip.”

She raised her eyebrows, amused. “Flip?”

The corner of Flip’s mouth quirked up. “Yeah. Nickname I’ve had since I was a kid. Short for Phillip.”

Her face softened into a smile. “Ah, I see. Well, Flip, were you aware?”

“I have heard that, yes. I don’t know, maybe it was starved or something."

“Hmm,” her liquid, golden-brown eyes caught his as she considered this. “Yes, well it would appear that the damage was done by a creature larger than a wolf. Or if not larger, quite a bit stronger.”

Flip’s brow furrowed as he listened, searching his memory. “Right…that makes sense. It didn’t seem to be so much bigger, just unusually strong. And I’m not exactly a small person, doctor.” That was certainly an understatement; Flip was six-food-three inches and 210 pounds, most of it muscle.

She nodded, her eyes flashing. He certainly was handsome, with his glossy black hair and eyes the color of dark honey. “Yes. Well, let me take another look at your wound and we’ll see.”

Flip’s gaze stayed fixed on her as she approached, pulling the bedsheets down and gently removing the bandage from his side. He winced, glancing down for a moment to catch a glimpse of the bloody patch that was already beginning to seal over. He tore his eyes away quickly, preferring to read the doctor’s expression.

“Well, I’m happy to say,” she murmured, “that you’re healing nicely. Your blood work came back fine, and assuming you’re feeling strong enough, we’ll release you in the morning. How does that sound?”

“Suits me fine. I need to get back to work. Get tired of sitting around.”

“I’m sure you do. I’ll send the nurse back in and she’ll get you something for the pain. We’re going to keep you on the antibiotics for the next week just to make sure there’s no infection.” She paused. “Is there anyone you’d like us to call for you, in the meantime? Wife, girlfriend?”

Flip’s eyes lingered on hers for a moment before he answered. “Nope,” he smiled ruefully. “I’m not that lucky.”

She returned his smile. “Alright then. Get some more rest. I’ll check in with you in the morning.”

He nodded. “Thank you, doctor, for everything.”

“Have a good night, Flip,” she said and left the room, leaving a trace of her perfume behind. She smelled of the woods, and fresh rain.

He watched her go, staring at the door for a good long moment after she had vanished. Flip sighed. Normally, he might have taken the opportunity to flirt with her a little when she asked about his marital status. But he didn’t want to risk offending her so he kept his mouth shut. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if her full, plush-looking lips were as soft as they looked.

The nurse returned, startling him out of his thoughts.

“Okay, Mister Zimmerman,” I have something for the pain. “Your dinner will be coming soon, so just rest up.”

Flip swallowed the pill down, his thoughts still circling around the good doctor. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. He thought maybe he could send her flowers or something, as a gesture of thanks. Maybe she’d even let him take her out to dinner—it certainly couldn’t hurt to ask.

____________________________________________________

Monday morning

Flip slept hard through the night and snapped awake around 7 am, his usual time. He woke up famished, energized, and somewhat aroused, but he pushed that craving away as he was not in the place to properly deal with it. He seemed to remember having dreamt something, but it wasn’t clear in his head enough to piece together, so he let it go.

The nurse came in—a different one from last night—and removed his bandage so he could shower. She told him not to put his shirt on until after she was able to redress the wound. Jimmy had stopped by the previous night to say hello, check in and bring Flip a change of clothes since the ones from the night of the attack were stained with blood.

Flip was sitting in a chair by the bed, hair damp and shirtless, as he put on his boots. The nurse returned and took a good long look at him—his well-defined chest and arms always attracted female attention, and he didn’t mind it one bit. She was older, not his type and clearly married, but he still grinned when he caught her looking.

“Let’s get you bandaged up. The doctor already signed your discharge papers and wants to speak with you in her office before you leave.”

“Sounds good,".he rumbled.

An hour later, Flip was sitting across from Dr. Dubois. This morning she was wearing an expensive suit in apricot, a shade that perfectly complemented her skin tone. Flip found himself distracted by her lips, her eyes, her lovely scent drifting towards him in the air.

“So Flip, I’m very glad that you’re healing so well. As I said, I'll have you continue the antibiotic, just to be safe. You'll need to change the dressing every day and do your best to keep it clean. And I’d like to ask that you check in with me in about two weeks. Here’s my card,” she said, passing it to him. “You can call me directly.”

Flip felt a little twinge of curiosity. “I’ll do that, doctor. But if you don’t mind my asking, do you give all your patients that come through here so much personal attention? Not that I’m complaining, mind you,” he huffed, smiling his sexiest, most charming Flip smile.

Doctor Dubois flashed her pearly whites back at him, canines and all. She had a gap between her front teeth that he found charming.

"That’s a fair question, Flip, and the answer is no. But your situation is rather unusual, considering the nature of your injury. So I’d like to be notified of your condition as time passes.”

Flip’s eyebrows slanted down just a bit. “My _condition?_ Is there something going on that I need to know about?”

"There might be," she said, pausing briefly to note his doubtful expression. “There’s a possibility that you might experience some…..strange symptoms in the upcoming weeks. I don’t want to alarm you, but if you notice anything strange at all, or have any reactions to the medication, I’d like you to contact me right away.”

Now he was really confused; the charming smile had faded. “What _kind_ of strange symptoms?”

She let out a little sigh. “I’m….I’m sorry, Flip. I really don’t want you to be alarmed. Just anything that seems out of the ordinary. I think you’ll know what I’m taking about, if it happens.”

Flip considered this carefully. “Okay,” he said, settling back in his chair. “Fair enough. Actually, there's something that I’d like to ask you.”

She smiled warmly. “Sure.”

“Well doctor,” he began, “I don’t know if this is inappropriate, I sincerely hope not, and if it is, please forgive me. But I was wondering if you might give me the chance to take you out to dinner sometime. As a way to say thank you, for your good care.” A slow smile crept up as he waited for her reaction, mentally patting himself on the back. _Damn, Flip--you smoothie._

She regarded him with warm, soft eyes. “I appreciate that, Flip. And since I’m not actually your physician, I think it’s safe to say that wouldn’t be inappropriate. But I do think it best if we waited for the next couple of weeks to pass first. If everything is well then, I’d be more than happy to have dinner with you.”

Flip brightened. “Well, that would be wonderful, doctor. Thank you again.” He held out a big hand to her and she took it. He was just the slightest bit startled by how warm she was.

“You’re more than welcome, Flip. Take care of yourself. And you can call me Jannah.”

He nodded, eyes widening. “Jannah,” he tested her name on his tongue. “Yes. You too.”

________________________________________

“ _I need to know how you remember it, our first meeting. When we first came together. Tell me.”_

_“I remember well. It was sweet. Sweeter than that first taste of wine after crossing the desert."_

_____________________________________________

As the voices faded, Flip woke from his dream. His cock was hard as stone, his body aching for something, for someone. For _her._


	2. Just Dropped in to See What Condition My Condition is In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flip returns to work, and everything seems fine...until things start getting weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I woke up this morning with the sundown shining in  
> I found my mind in a brown paper bag within  
> I tripped on a cloud and fell a-eight miles high  
> I tore my mind on a jagged sky  
> I just dropped in to see what condition my condition was in."

After leaving the hospital, Flip headed straight for the station. He wanted to show his face, make sure the guys knew he was okay and ready to get back to work.

He felt surprisingly energetic, something he chalked up to being laid up for a couple of days with nothing but rest. He was strong and his appetite was good—maybe a little too good, but that didn’t really concern him at the moment. He didn’t have any pain today, so there was no need for any meds. He felt like himself, more or less, just maybe a bit more…. _alive._

When Flip entered the office, a small round of applause followed him—something that was customary anytime one of them returned after an absence in the hospital, however brief. Ron came over and clapped him enthusiastically on the back.

“Good to have you back, my man. How’re you feeling?”

Flip looked over at him with raised brows. “Oh, I’m good, ready to get back to it.”

“Jimmy said he didn’t think they’d let you out so fast, they’d probably keep you for another day or so.”

“Well, I had a conversation with the head of the department before I left, and she told me I was good to go. As long as I keep in contact if there are any weird…symptoms or whatever.”

Ron paused. “Symptoms? You mean from the medication?”

“I’m not on any meds. She said I was healing super-fast. Didn’t need anything for pain either, since last night. It’s just the antibiotic.”

Ron digested this. “Okay, and she didn’t seem concerned at all that whatever bit you might have rabies…?”

Flip shrugged. “No. And this woman clearly knows her stuff. I wasn’t about to question her.”

Jimmy cut in. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Doctor, was this the same doctor from the night they brought you in?”

Flip chuckled. “I don’t know, Jimmy. I was pretty out of it.”

Jimmy nodded. “If she’s the same one, holy shit. I saw her when I went in to visit you Thursday. When I went to your room, she was in there, just kind of hanging out.”

Flip looked confused. “What do you mean, hanging out?”

“Well, she was just standing there, watching you.”

“Jimmy, she’s a doctor. That’s the kind of shit doctors do.”

Jimmy smirked. “Yeah, sure. No way in hell there could have been anything else to it.”

“What am I missing here?” Ron jumped in.

“Nothing,” Flip brushed it off. “She was just concerned, is all. She went out of her way to make sure I was getting the proper care.” There wasn’t a trace of irony in his voice.

Ron and Jimmy exchanged glances, each of them with a knowing look on their faces.

“Oh, it’s that old Zimmerman charm, probably,” Ron teased, and Jimmy nodded knowingly.

“Well, I don’t know how charming I could have been,” Flip deadpanned. “I was passed out.”

“Hmm. Yeah, well. What’s she like?”

“The doctor?”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Yes, _doofus_ , the doctor.”

Flip smirked. “Oh, _doofus_ , that's nice." Ron chuckled. "Um...thirtyish, maybe. Good-looking. I mean she's pretty, very pretty. And she has her shit together. She’s a _doctor,_ what do you want from me?”

Jimmy laughed. Ron shook his head. “I knew it.”

Flip huffed. “Gimme a break, alright guys?”

++

The rest of the day flew by as Flip immersed himself in work, trying to catch up on everything he’d missed.

He knocked off around 8pm, after reviewing some cases that needed his attention. Flip went straight home, looking forward to having a beer and maybe ordering a pizza; he was starved. He found his appetite had been slightly amped-up since he got out of the hospital. Maybe it was just a matter of being on a feeding tube and then lousy hospital food for a day, he thought. It could be that simple, but... _maybe not._

Another thing he found strange was that his craving for cigarettes seemed to have vanished. It was weird, but he'd take it; he'd been trying to stop anyway. 

When Flip got home and was about to call the pizza place, he realized it wasn’t what he really wanted. He needed something…. _meatier._ He called up the neighborhood diner and ordered a roast beef sandwich on rye. When it came, it was rare and rich and _soo_ very good. In fact, Flip didn’t think a sandwich had ever tasted better, and he wolfed it down. Afterwards, he sprawled on the couch with his beer, watching a rerun of _The Odd Couple_ , and fell asleep.

_He was running through the forest, beneath the pregnant moon. His blood sang with the pure exhilaration of the run, the energy drifting from all of the life around him—tiny, buzzing things, the small creatures that scrambled out of his way. Everything smelled green and fresh after the rain, and he slowed to take it all in._

_Suddenly, she was there. He felt the push of a warm, soft muzzle against his, and he turned. Her coat was a beautiful, inky black, eyes dark and clear as the night sky. The she-wolf nosed him playfully, and he returned the gesture as they began their wolfy dance, leaping at each other, forward and back, nipping gently at ears. He mouthed at her jaw, but gently, and their teeth clicked. She licked at his mouth, awakening something buried deep within. He knew, then: she was his, and he was hers_.

  
Flip woke abruptly, still on the couch. The tv was still on, how could he have fallen asleep that way? And it was after 2. He forced himself up with a groan, went to turn off the television and drag himself off to bed.

He lay in the blackness as traces of his dream whispered back to him. He closed his eyes, trying to remember, to make sense of it. Wolves….playing in the forest, almost like they were dancing. Why was he dreaming of _wolves_? He wanted to slip back into sleep, but the pulsing thing between his legs wouldn’t let him; it was insistent, demanding his attention. Flip gave in and started to stroke his cock, thick and hard and weeping. He kept seeing the beautiful black wolf, the way her eyes glowed at him, as he tugged on himself. He felt the familiar pressure building all too quickly, tumbling over itself as he got closer and closer and finally came with a loud groan, his whole body shuddering with the blissful release. 

**Wednesday morning, ten days later**

The wolf dreams had continued, becoming more frequent—and more vivid. Flip realized he should just go ahead and call Dr. Dubois—Jannah—and tell her what was going on. It had been almost two weeks anyway, and she asked him to get in touch. 

  
He couldn’t make it out; he wasn’t on any medication, even the antibiotics were finished, but there were definitely weird things going on inside his body and his brain. He wondered if any of them really counted as a symptom, and if so, a symptom of _what?_ He was almost afraid to find out.   
  
His fingers drummed anxiously on his desk as he waited for her to pick up.

  
“Good morning, Jannah Dubois.” He’d almost forgotten about the sweet musical timbre of her voice. 

  
“Morning, doctor. Flip Zimmerman here.” He had a momentary flash of dread, fearing that maybe she was just trying to be nice when she told him to keep in touch with her.

  
“Hello, Flip." her voice sank into a warmer tone that told him what he needed to know. “I’ve been waiting for your call.”

  
Flip suddenly felt a little flustered. “Oh well, it’s just coming up on the two week mark, so I figured it was time, and umm…” he swallowed. “I have been having some weird stuff going on.”

  
“How's your wound?"  
  
“Almost completely healed. I don’t think I’ve ever healed so fast from something like that in my life.”

  
“Wonderful. And your appetite?”

  
“Well, if anything, it’s _increased_. And I seem to be wanting to eat almost nothing but meat, almost like a craving,” he laughed under his breath. “Normally, I like a good steak now and then, but this is ridiculous.”

  
“Hmm,” she said. Flip noted that she didn’t sound the least bit surprised by anything he said. “Anything else? Hallucinations, or…?”

  
“Hallucinations, no, thank god. But umm…I do seem to be having the same dream over and over. I’ve had it at least three times in the past week.”

  
He heard her breath hitch. “What happens in your dream?”

  
“It’s just….wolves. Two wolves, a black and a grey, rolling around, playing. I can’t figure it out.”

  
“Flip, would you be able to come to my office to speak with me?”

  
“Uh, sure. Are the dreams what you meant when you were talking about....symptoms?"

“Yes,” she said softly. “But I’d much rather talk about it in person. When can you come by?”

  
“Uh…not today, but tomorrow I could.” He paused, chewing on his lower lip. “Or maybe we could just talk over dinner? I mean, if you’re still willing?”

  
He heard a soft huff as she exhaled. “I am. Tomorrow night?” 

  
He was grinning now, a burst of emotion welling up in his chest, warmth flowing through his groin. “How about we make it Friday, seven-thirty?”

  
“Okay. You can pick me up at the hospital.” 

  
“How do you feel about a good steakhouse?” he asked. 

  
“That would be perfect.”

  
“I know just the place." 

**Friday evening**

As he prepared for his date with Jannah, Flip felt a tremor of excitement running through him. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was more because he was anxious to get answers about the weird changes he’d been experiencing since the bite, or because he was so attracted to her. He couldn’t stop thinking about her eyes, her sweet voice....what her mouth would feel like on his, the sounds she would make if he slid his fingers inside her, as he prepared her for his cock…how her face would look if he made her come on his fingers….how she would taste if she let him kiss her in the most private, most sensitive part of her body. 

He shook off his erotic reverie and looked at himself in the mirror: he knew he looked good. He had ditched his usual flannel in favor of a dressier, button-down shirt; it was actually silk, a dark blue one, one of the better shirts that he owned. Slacks instead of jeans, and a black jacket completed the look. 

He laughed to himself, remembering Ron's reaction when he said he had a date tonight.

"Oh? With who?" 

"The ER doctor. Dr. Dubois.... _Jannah_ ," Flip grinned. 

"The _doctor?_ Okay, well I imagine you'll be on your best behavior, young man," Ron joked. 

"Of course I will."

"But will _she?"_

"Shit, I sure hope not," Flip shot back.

Jannah had called him earlier, asking that he pick her up from her home rather than the hospital, and gave him her address. He pulled up in his truck a few minutes early and just sat. His mind flashed back to the dream, and the wolves dancing. What was _happening_ to him?

He stood on the doorstep of her home, waiting for her to open up, and when she did, he was nearly undone by how good she looked. He struggled against the emotion, one that seemed far beyond all reason. In that brief, tense moment, while the two of them drank each other in wordlessly, Flip experienced a weirdly powerful _déjà vu_. It was confusing, but also made him feel strangely comforted--almost as though everything that would happen next was already planned out.

"Good evening, Flip," she smiled. 

He smiled back at the beautiful woman at the door and caught his breath. It wasn't just her beauty-- her dark, liquid eyes, the way the light caught her cheekbones, her curves in the fitted, cream-colored dress--it was her _scent._ It was a mixture of fresh rain and woods; she smelled like a forest, a scent that called to the deepest reaches of his brain, his memory--and for a moment, he thought he would lose his goddamn mind.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just Dropped In (to See What Condition My Condition Was in), Mike Newbury. Reprise Records, 1967


	3. Shame on the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flip finally gets some answers, even if they're not what he's expecting...😬

As Flip entered Keen’s Steakhouse with Jannah on his arm, anyone watching them would have been struck by what a stunning couple they were. He felt a strong sense of pride beside her, one that he was aware was not completely justified. It was only their first date, after all. Still, he had high hopes for the evening. Even if it all went wrong, at least he'd have a chance to get some answers about his predicament. 

But he had a damn good feeling that it was going to be _right._

Once they were seated and had menus in front of them, Flip took a long moment to just drink her in. She met his brandy-colored eyes with her own chocolate ones and it was as though something beneath his feet was drawing him in closer to her. He inhaled a breath of her fragrance again—heady, fresh and green. An image of the wolves in the forest came back to him for a moment, and a slight shiver ran through his body.

“I gotta tell you,” he started, “whatever fragrance that is that you’re wearing….its intoxicating. It reminds me of a forest."

Jannah’s full lips curved into a smile. “Thank you. It’s the only scent I wear. I discovered it years ago, and it felt like home to me.”

She had a pronounced gap between her front teeth, something that she probably disliked, but he found it delightful. 

"Your gap," he smiled, eyes crinkling. "Makes me think of Lauren Hutton."

She laughed softly. "I hated it as a kid, always wanted to get it fixed. I was raised by a single mother and we didn't have the money to get it fixed back then. I could now, but," she shrugged, "I guess I've gotten used to it."

"It's charming. You shouldn't ever fix it." 

Flip felt that overwhelming sense of _deja vu_ again.

“So tell me about the symptoms. Are you still having the dreams?”

“Strangely enough, I am. Had it again last night.” He licked his lips. “Is there some significance to the dreams, that you know of?”

“Well….yes," she said. "But I'd rather not go into it right now."

Flip frowned. “Well, what about the other symptoms?”

Jannah’s eyes flicked downwards to the menu in front of her. “Let’s decide what to order first and then I’ll explain things the best I can to you.”

Flip nodded mutely. It took him almost no time to make a decision, and when he did he raised his eyes again to admire Jannah.

The waiter appeared with the wine menu.

“Shall we get a bottle of wine?” Flip asked.

“Sure,” she smiled. “As long as it’s red."

Flip ordered a bottle of Cabernet, a better one than he normally would. He wanted to please Jannah.

“So you’re all healed, then?” she asked when the waiter had gone. 

He nodded. “Surprisingly so, yeah. There’s just the scar.”

She watched his throat bob, hesitating. Flip got the sense she was holding something back.

“Did you ever hear about the story in the news, about five years ago, when a woman was brought into to C.S. General with bite marks similar to yours?”

He frowned. “Doesn’t sound familiar,” he said. “I don’t think.”

“Well, I was working there at the time. I was a resident.”

Flip raised his eyebrows. “Really? Did you treat her?”

Jannah paused for a split second. “No,” she said. “But I do know all about it. Her situation was very much like yours. She healed very quickly, unusually so. When she started to recover, she had cravings for meat. And she had dreams.”

“Dreams? Were they like mine?”

“I can’t say exactly, but from what I know…yes.”

He leaned forward in his chair. “Holy shit,” he mumbled before catching himself. “Sorry.”

Jannah chuckled. “No worries. I’m a big girl.”

“What happened to her? Do you know? I mean, is she still alive?”

“Yes.”

“Is there any way I could speak with the doctor who treated her?”

“I don’t know about that. She doesn’t work at the hospital anymore.”

“Retired, huh?”

“Yes. A few years ago.”

Flip twisted his mouth in frustration. “Well, do you know anything else? I mean, did the doctor ever figure out what it was?”

She gave a slight nod. “She had some theories. _We_..had some.”

“Theories, like..?” he probed.

“Flip, are you familiar with lycanthropy?”

He sat back in his chair, lips parted in surprise. The waiter arrived with their wine and Flip held Jannah’s gaze while he poured. She raised her glass. “To you,” she said. “Feeling all better.”

Flip’s face softened into a wide smile. “To you and your lovely gap."

They each took a sip of their Cabernet, Flip nodding his approval. “So you were saying….lycanthropy? Lycans….werewolves?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “There is a difference, but…”

“I’m missing something,” he said slowly. “What does….” 

She held up her hand. "Let me clarify. Lycanthropy is a rare psychological disorder in which the stricken person believes he or she can turn into a wolf, or is a wolf."

"Okay, and did you put that theory to bed?"

"Dr. Holdo thought it was the best explanation. I did too, in the beginning, until I learned more." She paused. "As to your other question about Lycans and werewolves, they're basically the same, but werewolves only change on the full moon. Lycans change at other times, and possibly at will."

Flip picked up his wineglass and swirled its contents, a little smile tugging at his lips. "So, what are you saying? Werewolves are mythological creatures.”

She gave him another serene smile, and his heart rate picked up.

“You seem very sure of that.”

Flip’s eyebrows skated up. “Oh, and you’re not? You’re a doctor, a woman of science. Are you saying you think werewolves exist?”

“I’m saying, it’s best not to have a knee-jerk reaction to an idea unless you know for sure it isn't real." She paused. “If you want to talk to the woman who was bitten, I can....put you in touch with her." 

His throat bobbed. "I'd like that very much." 

"I'll give you some details later," she nodded as the waiter arrived with their first courses. 

During dinner, Flip told her all about what made him become a cop and why he loved it, despite the unpredictable hours, the dangers, the social challenges. Jannah shared stories about her family, especially her mom, who managed to keep things together despite raising Jannah and her brother as a single parent. Both she and her brother had finished college and entered professions that they loved--hers being medicine, his being psychology. 

Flip couldn't remember the last time he had been on a date where the chemistry was so perfect; he felt he could be himself with her, and there was the strange sense they somehow already knew each other. Eventually, he stopped questioning it and allowed himself to just enjoy it. 

When they finally pulled up to her house, he was hoping against hope she would invite him in.

  
“If you’d like to come in and have a nightcap, I can tell you more about the dreams, and....other things."

He gave her a sweet, lopsided grin. "I'd love to."

Jannah’s home was as lovely and warm as she was. He sat on the couch waiting while she got the glasses. She held out a clear bottle with a bright blue label.

“Sambuca?”

  
“Never had it, but I’ll try anything once,” he smirked.

She flashed him a toothy smile and opened the bottle. He watched her every move, thinking about how much he wanted to kiss her.

"I usually have it with coffee, but it's good this way, too." She brought the glasses over and sat beside him on the couch.

  
“Cheers,” she said, clicking his glass.

  
He took a sip and his eyebrows went up. “Hmm, licorice.”

"Anise," she corrected softly, lips tugging into a smile. 

“I like it.” He licked his lips and his voice dropped lower. “I like _you.”_

  
Jannah’s eyes returned his heat. “I feel very comfortable with you, Flip. I almost feel like I've known you for a long time.” She held his gaze for a moment and let her words sink in.

  
He was too stunned to speak. “Yeah, it’s funny,” he murmured. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  
“I have to tell you something,” she said. “So hear me out.”

  
He nodded. “Of course.” 

  
She took a deep breath. "In two nights, the moon will be full. You have to prepare yourself. You’re going to change, and if you’re not careful, you could hurt someone. Or get hurt yourself.”

 _“Change?_ ' He frowned, his mouth twisting in confusion. "What do you mean, _change?"_

When she spoke, her tone was calm and matter-of-fact. “You’ll turn. You’ll become a wolf, and you’re going to want to hunt.”

  
“Whoa, whoa, listen….” He was shaking his head and staring at her like she was mad, but her expression hadn’t changed. “How do you know?”

In response, she set the glass down on the coffee table before unbuttoning the top two buttons of her blouse. She turned half away from him and tugged her blouse down at her left shoulder. There, at the meaty part of her shoulder blade, was a long, jagged scar. It looked like a bite wound. Flip couldn’t stop himself from tracing his fingers over it gently, eyes full of fear and wonder. Finally, she turned back to him.

"How...?" he whispered.

“It was me. I was bitten."


	4. Instincts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to AliCat114 for her alpha/beta-ing skills and for being her wonderful self. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun  
> My hunger for her explains everything I've done  
> To howl at the moon the whole night through  
> And they really don't care if I do  
> I'd go out of my mind but for you."

It didn’t make sense. At least not any _logical_ sense.

“I know how it sounds,” Jannah murmured. “But like you said, I’m a woman of science. Why would I make it up?”

He stared at her, shaking his head slowly.

“It's not logical,” he sighed.

She laughed softly under her breath. “You’re not wrong. Yet, here we are.”

Flip narrowed his eyes. “Why would…why would you-?” he broke off, shaking his head again.

She moved closer to settle a hand on his arm. He looked down at it like she had burned her. “Listen to me. I’m asking you to trust your _instincts_ this time.”

He was a fucking cop. He knew all about _trusting instinct_. Flip huffed a small breath.

“Look at me, Flip. _Please.”_

His slid his gaze to her, cold and hesitant. Hers burned with the confidence that only comes from a person who knows they are speaking the truth.

“There’s a place I go during the moon: my father’s cabin in the mountains. It’s safe, secluded. Come with me—”

Flip was already shaking his head. Jannah squeezed his arm to bring him back to her.

“—I can show you how to survive. How to hunt. We’ll be _safe.”_

Flip’s jaw worked and he looked away. “I…think I should go. Have a good….good night,” he muttered.

Jannah’s breath caught as he pulled away and moved quickly toward the door. He heard her _please wait_ and _it's the only way_ behind him, but he just kept moving. 

Nothing was more important at that moment than getting out. He needed to _think._

Flip got into his car and just sat, his mind whirling. He couldn’t reconcile her words with what he knew, what he had always believed to be true.

Werewolves _don’t exist._

_Then where did the scar come from?_

_And how would she know about the dreams?_

He shifted his seat back for a moment, trying to regain some clarity. He closed his eyes, fingertips pressing into the lids as if to blot out what he had seen, what he had heard.

  
Jannah wasn’t some crackpot, was she? She was a highly educated, extremely bright woman. It wouldn’t make sense for….

A current of drowsiness swept over him as he sat in the warm car. Snowflakes were just beginning to swirl lightly, leaving little wet kisses on his windshield. He kept seeing her face, the way her eyes shone with determination. 

_"We'll be safe."_

The evening wasn’t supposed to end this way. He was supposed to take her in his arms. He should have kissed her. Their bodies should be twining together right now, achy and warm. The throbbing beast between his thighs had dwindled to a sad, defeated thing. He wanted her so much. And now, _this._

He drifted.

_The snow coated the ground in a thick blanket, cold and wet, but the cold somehow didn’t bother him at all. Only the bottom of his feet tingled, as he ran, nose twitching when he picked up her scent. He could smell her sweet muskiness mixed with the bitter tang of fear, but he couldn’t yet see her._

_A soft whine was coming from somewhere nearby and his pace grew frantic. His ears pricked up at the sound._

  
_Where are you? Where?_

  
_He heard it again and it tugged at his heart, pulling him, leading him. He finally saw her up ahead, just beyond the cabin, her beautiful body lying broken, keening._

  
_She was in pain._

_His tail flicked angrily as he surged towards her._

Help her.

  
_Blood spattered snow, her fur raven black against white. He darted to her and licked at her face._

Pain. Must help.

_Who did this? He would tear them limb from limb._

_He raised his head high and howled._

Flip jerked awake, momentarily confused. The snow was coming down harder now.

  
He got out of the car, slamming the door and walked with purpose up to the house.

  
There was no hesitation in him now.

The chime of the bell, the click of the front door, and then her face. He rushed forward and he was on her like his life depended on it. 

  
Maybe it did. 

  
Questions and doubts were burnt away to husks, meaningless in the face of this all-consuming desire, this need. 

  
She tasted of anise and something peppery, and of Jannah, her tongue soft and slippery against his making the fire flare again. His fingers pressed into her skin, feverish, nothing else mattered right now but touching her, tasting her. 

  
Her skin was as soft as he imagined, silky, dark mahogany. She led him to her room and they fell across the bed in unison, teeth clashing, his mouth as hungry for her as she was for him. Clothes were pulled off in haste and cast to the floor, all that mattered was skin. He needed to touch her, every part of her. He needed to be enveloped by her. 

  
He knelt between her legs, one hand on each thigh holding her down as his eyes latched on to hers. When he drew his tongue up her center, slick and needy for him, she let out the sweetest moan that vibrated right through him. He needed to hear it more and he did it again, as her lashes fluttered and her body went slack in surrender. 

  
_We’ll be safe._

  
He knew now that he would only be safe with her, and that he must keep her safe as well. And he would. 

  
He didn’t even understand what that meant, but he knew it to be true.

  
When he entered her, slowly and with such tenderness, he knew that she was meant for him. The music of their lovemaking—the sighs, the whispered praise, the moans-- was the only music his ears craved. If he had his way, it would weave the melody of his future-- _their_ future. 

  
His eyes stayed on her face as he felt her walls clutching at him greedily, milking him. He staved off his own climax as long as he could, starved for the hazy look of pleasure that finally crossed her features as she came. A word fell from her lips at that moment, soft as a prayer. It wasn’t his name, but he recognized it somehow. 

_Ahanu._

They lay together afterwards, her head on his chest, both feeling as though they were floating inches above the bed. 

  
“What made you change your mind?” she murmured.

  
Flip's fingertips stroked her arm lightly.

"I fell asleep in the car, and had a dream about the wolves again.” The memory of it brought a thread of fresh pain and he realized he did not want to tell her about it. 

  
Jannah turned her head, trying to see his face. “Dream? You couldn't have been out there for more than fifteen minutes. How could you fall asleep and have a dream that fast?” 

  
Flip frowned slightly. “I know I saw something. I do know I was….drifting…” he shrugged. "It _felt_ like a dream."

  
“That wasn’t a dream, Flip. That was a vision. I’ve had them, too. They show up close to the full moon."

  
She rolled away from him so she could look into his eyes. “You’ll come with me then?”

  
He nodded solemnly. “I will.” 

  
Her smile was a mixture of joy and relief. 

"Call your station, make whatever arrangements you need to. We’ll leave Sunday before noon."

  
“Okay,” he said, reaching out to run a finger affectionately along her cheek. “You said something before. During…”

  
Janna chuffed quietly. “I’m sure I said a _lot_ of things. So did you.” 

  
“No. It was…it didn’t sound like English. It sounded like…..a _name.”_

  
Jannah’s eyes widened. “What was it?”

  
Flip swallowed heavily, scanning his mind quickly and then reaching for it like a piece of gold rescued from the mud. 

  
“Ahanu,” he said, the word feeling strangely familiar on his tongue. “You said….. _Ahanu._ ”

Jannah stared at him for a long moment before speaking.

  
“It is a name," she said finally. “From the Algonquin language. It means, ‘He laughs.’” 

  
Flip’s mouth dropped open. “Wow. You speak _Algonquin?”_

  
“Not really,” she said, curling back against his body. “I know a few words. I’ve been fascinated with Native American culture for a long time.” 

"Do you know someone with that name?"

Jannah shrugged. "No."

He sensed there was more to it, but he didn't ask.

"There are others then. The one who bit you is still out there."

She nodded again. "Most likely. He may have been killed by now. No way of knowing."

  
They fell asleep that way, wrapped up as one. For the first time in the past two weeks, Flip didn’t dream.

++

  
Sunday morning, Flip was packed and ready for their trip up to the mountains. He’d brought exactly the kinds of clothes and supplies one would normally bring for such an endeavor in the middle of November: an extra sweatshirt and tees to layer; a couple changes of underwear, flashlight, extra large water bottle. Jannah had said her father’s cabin was well-equipped, but one never knew what to expect, and he hated the idea of being caught unprepared. 

  
She had also said that he wouldn’t need clothes for the bulk of the time they were up there, but he hadn’t asked a lot of questions. The idea was highly erotic, until he reminded himself that this was not a romantic getaway but something else entirely. 

  
Flip had gone against all of his normal detective habits in preparing for this experience. Normally, he would ask endless questions and form a theory, trying to focus on deductive reasoning while always looking for more clues. But this was not like any kind of investigation or anything that he’d dealt with. So he tried to suppress his analytical brain, at least for the time being. 

  
He did succumb to curiosity and asked her one question that was looming foremost in his mind.

  
“Does it hurt? The change?”

He watched her steel herself, worrying her lower lip as she pondered how best to answer him. 

  
“I’m not going to lie to you, Flip. It will hurt the first time. But the flood of adrenaline in your body should help make the pain bearable.”

  
He nodded. “And then it gets better, after that?”

  
“Yes. Your body and mind adjust to the change and it becomes much easier with time. And faster.” She raised her eyebrows and gave him a playful little smile. "That’s the good news,” she chuckled.

  
“Thank God,” he whispered. 

Jannah reached out and grasped his large hand. She wasn’t surprised to find him trembling a bit.

  
“Hey. It will be okay. I’ll be with you,” she soothed. 

When she arrived just before noon in her Rangerover, she had to laugh at all the stuff he had with him, including a sleeping bag. 

“You’re not going to need most of this stuff, but I get it. That," she pointed to the sleeping bag,” is totally unnecessary.” 

Flip shrugged. "Well, you know. I always come prepared," he smirked. 

She gave him a knowing smile.

“It’s not more than a forty minute drive,” Flip noted. “Why leave so early?”

  
“Well, if it was summer, we could have hung back until just before sunset, but I don’t like to fool around this time of year. The snow slows things down, sometimes roads are closed. This way, we’ll get up to the cabin nice and early and have plenty of time to get settled before dusk. And there’s lots to see up there.” 

  
Flip was staring at her profile hungrily. “I’m enjoying the view right now,” he quipped. 

  
Jannah tossed him a flirty grin, the tip of her tongue pressing at the gap between her teeth in a way that made his heart skip a beat. “You’ll have plenty of time to look at me, over the next few days, Philip,” she chuckled. 

  
He liked when she called him by his given name; no one else did.

  
“But to be fair, I won’t look like _this,_ most of the time,” she said. Her eyes flashed back to him for a moment. “Neither will you.”

  
Flip tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “But don’t worry. It’ll be fine. You’ll see,” she said. Her calm demeanor helped to soothe his ragged nerves a bit.

  
“Tell me about your father,” he said, watching her profile as she drove. “Does he know?”

  
Jannah smiled again. “He knows, but he doesn’t quite want to accept it. The only reason he knows is because he saw me, transformed. It was one of the times when I was up at the cabin and he dropped by to check in. He found me sleeping in wolf form.”

  
“Shit,” Flip blurted.

  
“Don’t worry,” she smiled. “He doesn’t habitually make unexpected visits while I’m there. He respects my privacy.”

  
“Good,” he chuckled.

  
“My dad wasn’t around while I was growing up. He had a…..well, let’s just say a ‘checkered past’.” He was a smuggler for awhile, I know that, and he got into trouble trying to help a good friend of his get out of some kind of situation. I don’t know all the details, but it’s part of the reason he was never around. My mother used to bitch about him something awful, but I could always tell she still loved him.” 

"Did they ever get back together?”

  
“Uh uh. She passed away while I was I was finishing college. I was gearing up for med school, and most of it was scholarship, which was good—we just didn’t have the money. I met him at the funeral and we talked. And from that moment on, he’s been back in my life. He’s been a good father, I have to say. Trying to make up for lost time.”

  
“That’s generous of you,” Flip said. “Not everyone is so forgiving of their parents."

  
She shrugged. “It doesn’t make anything better by holding a grudge, does it?”

  
Flip nodded. He couldn't argue with that.

  
Once they arrived, Flip was pleased to see that it was larger and better equipped than he had expected. There was a woodstove, an icebox, and functioning plumbing. There were two bedrooms, the larger of which boasted a queen-sized bed and a fairly new-looking mattress. There was no tv, but there was a sizeable boombox and piles of cassette tapes. 

  
Jannah had explained to him that during the day, they would be sleeping most of the time. At night, they’d prowl and hunt by the light of the moon. 

  
They unpacked the car and put the few food items they’d brought into the icebox, including a six-pack of Heineken that Flip brought. Jannah pulled out the familiar blue and silver bottle of Sambuca .

"I like to come prepared, too,” she grinned. 

  
“Should we eat something now? By sunset you’ll be really hungry,” she warned. “Then we can go for a little walk.”

  
Flip moved in on her, caging her up against the wall with his big body, planting one hand on either side of her head. He licked his lips and tilted her chin up with a finger.

“Well, food _isn’t really_ the first thing on my mind right now,” he purred. 

  
“I get it,” she smiled. “But we’ll have plenty of time for that. And this will be new for both of us. I’ve never done _that_ in my wolf body.” 

  
He pulled back from her for a minute, stunned. He really hadn’t let himself consider the idea of...

Jannah regarded him with a smile. “It’ll be okay. Let’s warm up some soup.”

Flip fell silent as they moved about the kitchen, Jannah pointing things out to him. He was clearly more on edge now, knowing that the time was getting so close. They sat at the rickety, metal kitchen table and ate their _Pasta e Fagioli_ from the Colorado Springs specialty foods shop. Neither one felt the need to talk just then; it was enough to be together in the moment. 

  
When they’d finished eating, Jannah led him outside and down the path to a clearing. There was a panoramic view of the surrounding mountains, and far below, the vista of Colorado Springs. The snow painted everything white, giving it a surreal beauty.

  
“Incredible,” Flip mumbled as he stood in awe of the view. “This may not be the best time to ask this but, where would the closest phone be? Just, you know, _in case?"_

  
“Hm,” Jannah raised her eyebrows. “That is a good question, actually. There’s a campground near the bottom of the mountain. The office has a phone.” She shrugged, unperturbed. "That's about it."

  
He sighed, looking less than comforted to learn this. “Well, that’s good to know.”

  
She shook her head. “You still don’t trust me, do you? I’ve been coming up here for nearly five years to do this. I know what I’m doing.” 

  
He nodded. “Not to be a jerk, but…you know the old saying. It’s always the best swimmers who drown.”

  
“Point taken,” she smirked. “Come on, detective. Let’s go build a fire and we can relax until sunset.”

  
“That sounds like a plan."

It was just approaching four and the autumn sun was sinking low in the sky. Flip and Jannah sprawled on the bed, sharing slow, sweet kisses. 

  
“No one’s ever kissed me like you do,” she whispered. 

He smiled. “Too bad for them. I’ve got you now.” 

  
Jannah trailed a finger over Flip’s mouth, tracing the line. “You’re beautiful, do you know that?"

  
He grinned. “You stealing my lines now, sweetheart?”

  
Jannah chuckled and leaned in to kiss him some more. Flip propped himself on an elbow and just stared.

“I need to look at you like this for a little longer. Before it happens.”

  
They explored each other’s bodies with trembling hands. Careful fingers tracing over each other’s scars—the things that had brought them together. The joining of their bodies didn't feel like ordinary sex, wasn’t like anything either had ever experienced. To Flip, it felt otherworldly. Meant to be. _Bashert._

When Flip woke, the room was dark. She was no longer lying in his arms and he sat up anxiously. He glanced out the window to the west; only the final dregs of sunlight were lingering on the horizon. 

  
The moon was rising. 

  
He called her but there was no response. After a moment, a sharp pain cut through his shoulder blades—it felt as though he was being torn apart, his breath stolen from him. He waited for it to fade and then tried again, screaming this time.

  
_“JANNAH!”_

  
The pain streaked through him, the twinges striking at other points of his body---his legs, his hips. Pressure between his ears. 

  
“Please… _.please,_ ” he panted, on the verge of tears. “Make it _stop.”_

  
He felt a wet tongue on his cheek and he opened his eyes. She was there, the beautiful black wolf from his dreams, perched on the bed beside him. He looked into the dark pools of her eyes.

  
“Jannah,” he whispered, before another jolt of pain ripped through him. His whole body was expanding, changing, becoming something entirely new. He tried to get to his feet and fell; his legs didn’t work and it terrified him. 

  
She was beside him in an instant, sitting by him on the floor. Flip’s vision went hazy and he lost consciousness.

  
When he came to, she was still beside him. He opened his eyes and knew that everything was different. The pain was gone, and he felt renewed. Strong. He rose to his feet, standing on four legs this time. He met her eyes and felt the swish of his own tail.

  
In a flash, she darted towards the front door and pawed it open. She turned to look at him, waiting. 

  
He heard her voice in his head. _Let's go._

  
Then he followed her outside into the moonlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sister Moon," Sting. Nothing Like the Sun, 1987


	5. Ahanu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a flashback chapter. The setting is 1763, just at the end of the French and Indian War.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a few random words from the Algonquin language here, as well as names. I tried to make sure they are all explained within the story, but to simplify:
> 
> Chenoa - White Dove  
> Ahanu- He laughs  
> Kitschi - Brave
> 
> Nookomis -Grandmother  
> 

Northern New York, near the Canadian border, 1763 

The day is already quite warm and humid as Chenoa strolls down to the lake. These days, her mother often reminds her to be careful; she’s sixteen now, not a little girl any longer. In the past year, her body has reshaped itself; her hips are rounder and her breasts fuller, the shape of small apples. Her hair, in a single long, thick plait, swings gracefully across her back as she moves.

  
A thorough perusal of the area assures her that there are no boys lurking to sneak glances at her lithe, cinnamon-brown body. Not even Kitchi; she likes him well enough, and she knows grandmother hopes that they will wed when the time comes. But she is not ready for him to see her this way, bared to the elements. 

  
Satisfied that she’s alone, she pulls her sleeping gown over her head and lays it on the rock, along with a towel. She knows the water will be cold and she won’t stay in long, but the appeal of a quick dip is too tempting to resist. 

  
Chenoa darts into the water quickly, knowing it would be harder to adjust if she hangs back. It’s cool but not too cold, just enough of a pleasant shock to the system, awakening all her senses. When the water laps just above her waist, she sinks down to let it take her, dipping her head under for a moment before emerging, black hair sleek as an otter. Working quickly, she soaps herself up, humming a melody that floats inside around her head. She can’t remember where heard it, but she knows it must be one sung by the white soldiers as they passing through. British, she thinks, or maybe French, but she can’t be sure. She’s just starting to pick up the language of each. 

  
As she prepares to end her bath, she looks up to see a familiar pair of eyes watching her and it makes her smile. He comes to watch her every morning now, as if he is watching over her. 

  
“Boozhoo,” she calls softly. _Good day._

  
The wolf cocks his head at her, lifting his snout in a return greeting. Meeting his gaze always brings her an immediate sense of peace, of calm and some other emotion she cannot name. His intelligent eyes, limpid amber pools, follow her as she stalks out of the water to seize the towel. She thinks him a beautiful creature, sublime. He is long and lean with powerful legs, his coat a silvery grey tipped with darker points at his ears and nose. 

  
Chenoa dries off quickly and pulls on her gown. She is fresh and alert now, ready for breakfast. She smiles at him, her trusted friend. She knows instinctively that he will not let any harm come to her. He wants only to be near her.

“Ahanu,” she coos. “Netoppew.” _My friend._

  
She is almost sure he can understand her. Their communication is wordless.   


  
++

  
Ahanu had first come to visit two summers ago, when Chenoa was fourteen. Wolf packs were frequently seen around the area of Lake Luzerne, but he always seemed to be alone. She knew not to be afraid of him; her father had taught her that wolves have no interest in humans. Like other nations, her people knew how to live peaceably with all creatures. They were brothers and sisters who shared the land. When an animal life was taken, proper respect was always given to the creature’s spirit. They thanked the buffalo, the deer, even the rabbit. No death was treated lightly, but with the gratitude merited by sacrifice. And no part of an animal was wasted: meat, hide, bones—everything was of use. 

  
When her clan traveled south to another village before winter arrived, Ahanu followed like a faithful hound. The clan would sometimes leave out small gifts of meat or bread for him when there was plenty. The fact that he was a wolf and could feed himself was irrelevant. It was a gesture of trust and respect. 

  
Throughout the fall and early winter, the wolf showed up frequently, mostly in the evenings. In the beginning, he just watched them from a distance, disappearing silently after dark. But he became such a regular visitor that Chenoa’s grandmother had named him. 

“Your friend is here,” she announced gleefully to Chenoa. “He watches for you. He _protects you._ ” 

  
Chenoa bit her lip and frowned. Grandmother was wise and could see things she could not. 

  
“The One Who Laughs,” the older woman said in English, smiling at her indulgently. _“Ahanu.”_

  
Her eyes shifted back to the wolf and Chenoa looked, too: there was something odd about the way he gazed at her, muzzle loose and drawn back almost in a grin. Like he was laughing along with them, like he understood what they were saying. Like he knew. 

++

  
Now, the wolf watches her with his intelligent eyes as if looking into her soul. Chenoa stands still, patient, and holds a hand out to him. Slowly, he approaches, head lowered so as not to spook her. She smiles and calls to him softly. She wants him to know she’s not afraid. 

  
Ahanu comes closer, his pace unhurried. When he is no more than six inches away, she gently moves her hand towards his head. He doesn’t move a muscle, and when her fingers reach out to stroke the top of his head with a feathery touch, he closes his eyes. Her heart thunders, her skin alight with the gentle friction of his fur beneath her hand. It’s thicker and softer than she expected. When she stops, holding her palm open once again, she feels the soft rasp of his tongue against her skin, the most reverent type of kiss.

Moments later, he slides away, disappearing back into the trees. 

  
She tells her grandmother about it later that day. Nookomis says that Ahanu is not really a wolf. She says he has the soul of a man.

  
Chenoa stares, trying to understand. The wise ones say that the spirit of an animal can sometimes meld with that of a human if they spill each other’s blood. She asks her grandmother if that’s what she means. 

  
Grandmother shakes her head and answers in their language. 

“No. He is a man in the body of a wolf.” She says it slowly and with such surety that it gives Chenoa pause. She doesn’t understand how an animal could have the soul of a human. 

  
Grandmother waves her away. “I don’t know why. I only know it is.”

  
“How do you see this?” Chenoa asks. "How do you know?”

  
Her grandmother hums and nods. “He looks at you with the eyes of a _man.”_

++  
  
In the evening, after the pow wow, the clan sits around the fire to pass the pipe. Kitchi goes to sit beside Chenoa and gives her a flirty little smile. He’s been particularly attentive to her tonight, more than usual, but she doesn’t mind. Kitchi is strong and brave, as his name suggests, and he has a sharp jaw and soft eyes. He’s just turned seventeen, and he’s taller than most of the other boys in the clan, with a beautifully defined chest. Daily hunting and swimming have fine-tuned his body. 

  
They’re holding hands when he leans in to kiss her shyly at the corner of her mouth. Chenoa’s never been kissed before and she turns away, flustered. Her belly flutters a bit. But it’s not so bad after all, and she turns back to let him kiss her again. Kitchi’s lips are soft against hers, and then there’s a click of teeth when he parts her lips with his tongue. It’s a brief kiss, just enough. She smiles and leans her head on his shoulder, content. That’s when her eyes wander to her left and she sees the dim outline of the wolf— _her_ wolf—watching them in the darkness. He always watches. 

  
Late that night as she drifts off, she hears the howling start. It could be any of the wolves in the area, but she knows it’s him. It’s a mournful sound, rising up from a deep well of loneliness, and it makes her heart hurt. 

  
It’s a few nights later when Kitchi leads Chenoa on a spontaneous walk into the woods. The moon is full and bright in the sky, and there’s a strange, electric energy rising up around them as they walk. Silently, he leads her by the hand, away from the fire, away from the camp. Where the woods are thicker. She knows where he’s going: it’s their favorite tree, the one they liked to climb and sit under on the hottest of days. 

  
Kitchi turns suddenly and kisses her. It’s different from the other night—more aggressive, insistent. Chenoa is confused by the shift in his energy. Kitchi is normally so gentle with her, but now he’s pushing her up against the tree, his hands moving down her body without invitation, and fear sparks deep inside her. It’s all happening so fast, she barely has time to process what he’s doing. Suddenly, he stops to pull back and she sees him staring at something behind her.

  
“Maheegan,” he rumbles, his voice low and threatening. “Nagadan.” 

_Go away, wolf._

  
Before Chenoa can respond, Kitchi grabs her and pulls her flush against him. She hears a deep growl from behind her and does her best to turn. 

  
Ahanu.

  
“Nagadan,” Kitchi repeats, more forcefully this time.

The wolf answers with a louder growl. Chenoa struggles out of Kitchi’s grip to turn fully around and face him. His eyes are fiery in the light of the moon, lips drawn back savagely to reveal sharp teeth.

  
“Damn wolf,” Kitchi says in their language. “Acts like your protector.” 

She feels a squeezing in her chest. She knows he’s right.

  
Kitchi reaches for the knife strapped to his leg and wields it .

  
“Don’t,” Chenoa cries out, stepping away from him and closer to the wolf. Ahanu barely looks at her, his focus still on Kitchi as man and wolf stare each other down.

“Ahanu,” she says softly, soothing. 

  
At last he looks at her and his expression softens. She waits until the snarl fades, til the sharp canines retract and he closes his mouth. His eyes look back at her with a mixture of understanding and something that feels like longing. She isn’t sure but maybe she knows because it’s what she feels, too.

  
After a moment that stretches out like poured honey, Ahanu turns to walk away slowly. He doesn’t look back. 

  
Chenoa fixes Kitchi with an icy glare and then leaves him to walk back to camp alone. 

++

She is asleep in the tipi with her younger sister and brother when she hears it again, the same mournful howling she heard the night before. She flips over on her back and listens, her skin prickling at the plaintive sound. She knows, now, what it means: he’s calling her. 

  
She rises carefully from her bedroll, doing her best not to wake anyone else, especially her little brother who’s likely to wake everyone else. She grabs a thin blanket to drape over her shoulders because even in May, the nights are cool. Barefoot, she slips through the flap and stands, letting her eyes adjust so she can find him. The howling starts again and she moves in that direction, trusting her ears rather than her eyes.

  
He spots her first and turns to approach. They move slowly and cautiously towards each other, like a pair of lovers who’ve denied their feelings for too long. When they meet in the middle, she kneels before him so that they are face to face, and his eyes blaze into hers. She smiles and addresses him as always. 

  
_Ahanu. Netoppew._

  
He is her friend, but now she knows he is even _more_. 

  
She laughs when he licks her cheek softly and she throws her arms around his ruff, burying her face in the thick fur to breathe him in. He smells of earth and smoke and woods. He smells like home. 

  
“You are dear to me,” she whispers, clutching him tight, her eyes squeezed shut. As she kneels there, holding him, she feels him shift in her arms. At first, she thinks he is pulling away, but when she opens her eyes, he is changing before her, transforming: becoming something else. It happens so quickly she barely has a chance to think or react. His luxe coat melts away to smooth skin, his snout flattens and takes a new shape. Chenoa sits back on her heels to watch with wide eyes. It’s less than a minute later when she is gazing at the form of man, inches from her, crouching on all fours. 

  
He is naked, and heat creeps up her neck at the realization. Chenoa has never seen a naked man before, but she is curious to see more.....to _touch._

Automatically, she removes the blanket from her shoulders and offers it to him; he gives her a shy smile. His eyes are a deep brown now, not the strange amber of the wolf, but she recognizes them nevertheless. His hair is a thick, rebellious, raven curtain that falls uncut over his shoulders and tickles his collarbone. A wild beard covers his cheeks and chin, only his full mouth peeking out. His shoulders are broad, his arms long and sinewy. 

  
He is beautiful.

  
A wave of joy sweeps over her as she fully realizes the miracle that has occurred before her eyes. She can barely conceive of it, but she knows grandmother is right.

  
Ahanu is _here._ He's real. 

  
And he is _hers._

  
He nuzzles his elegant nose into her neck. 

  
“You are dear to me,” he whispers in English.


	6. Beauty I've Always Missed with these Eyes Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is split between the 1763 flashback and 1978, returning to Flip and Jannah as she guides him through his first night as a wolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies--this chapter was posted prematurely by accident and is shorter than intended. Chap. 7 will continue Flip's first night with Jannah after his change.

Chenoa can’t stop trembling as she struggles to accept that the man standing right in front of her is Ahanu.

She’s not sure where to start. She doesn’t even know if he speaks Algonquian, but she has to try.

“How…..how are you here?”

Ahanu fumbles with the blanket as he does his best to cover his lower half from her eyes. She tries not to let her eyes wander lower, but it’s a struggle. He gives her a cockeyed grin, and she thinks if she could see him in better light, he’d be blushing. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath before he answers in a voice that is deep and gruff.

“I don’t remember. It’s… been so long.”

Thank the Great Spirit, he speaks her language. He’s paler than she, and she wonders if he might be a white man. But it’s hard to tell, since he he's so grimy. His voice is gravelly, likely because he hasn’t spoken in so long.

Chenoa nods, suddenly remembering where they are. She takes his hand to lead him away from the tipi. There’s no point in waking the others—it will only cause pandemonium. They need to get to the tent where sacred ceremonies are held. She leads him into the darkness, and he follows without hesitation.

It’s a bit warmer inside the tent, and she sits on one of the long wooden benches, beckoning him over. He hesitates before following her, thinking momentarily that the floor is just fine. It’s what he’s used to, after spending an indeterminate amount of time in the body of a wolf.

He sits down a bit awkwardly, pulling the blanket up and to reposition it, and she flushes when his lower half is fully exposed to her, just for a moment. She sees the thing between his legs and It’s big, much bigger than she would have imagined. But he’s tall—taller even than Kitchi, so she figures it’s a matter of proportion.

She sits cross legged in front of him and he stares back at her with the same intensity that radiated from his wolf body.

“Grandmother knew,” she says simply.

He smiles and nods his understanding.

“Where did you come from? Were you a soldier?” Chenoa licks her lips, unable to stop looking at the thick chords of muscle in his arms, his strong shoulders. She’s tempted to run her hands across his chest and make sure he’s real.

“No. I’m what my father’s people call a half-breed. My mother comes from a tribe in Quebec. My father is a soldier, or…. _was_ a soldier. American.” He swallows heavily.

She murmurs a soft expression of sympathy. Ahanu tilts his head down down. “It’s what happens to soldiers, sometimes. They get killed" His voice is clipped, matter-of-fact. Chenoa says nothing. She can’t begin to imagine how much he’s been through, let alone how he came to be in this position.

“What did they call you?”

He shrugs. "My father named me Ethan, but my mother called me Matunaagd.”

The name means _He fights,_ in her language. Chenoa cannot help the small puff of laughter that escapes her, as she pictures a younger, smaller version of the man in front of her challenging other boys. He watches her with quiet eyes, and a few seconds later, she remembers that she knows nothing about him, about who he was a human. She only knows the wolf.

“I am Chenoa,” she says proudly.

He smiles warmly. “I know.”

She tries his name on her tongue. English words feel strange. “Ethan,” she says softly and nods.

“No. Call me Ahanu. That is who I am now.” His voice is low and serene, and it calms her.

Chenoa stretches a hand to his face to brush his cheek and he closes his eyes, just as he did days ago when she stroked his head for the first time. When she pulls back, he opens his eyes, and there is a hunger in them that she’s seen before in the eyes of Kitchi. And now she knows for certain that she will never marry Kitchi. She thinks her future husband sits before her.

She hopes.

Ahanu lifts his hand gingerly and stares down as if he doesn’t recognize it. “It’s strange to have hands again,” he sighs. It’s his turn to touch her and he reaches up to cup her cheek and she feels him trembling. Soothingly, she places her hand over his.

“So warm,” she breathes.

“So beautiful.”

His eyes sink lower and she realizes he is looking at her lips. He leans in to brush hers tentatively before pressing a little harder. It’s a soft kiss, tender and full of passion. His mouth feels so nice, but Chenoa startles, the full gravity of the situation hitting her, and she pulls back.

He looks so hurt at the rejection that it squeezes her heart.

“We-we can’t, not this way,” she explains. “What will we tell them?”

“You can say I was a stranger. That I was lost, and you found me.”

“Yes, yes. But you must have some clothes,” she frowns.

Ahanu gives her a sheepish look, but she barely notices, her mind whirling with ideas. She knows Samoset is nearly his size. She thinks she may be able to borrow something from him.

She’s hesitant to ask, but she must. “I have to get back. Where will you sleep?”

He shrugs. “Here, I guess.”

“But you must be out before dawn. They can’t find you like this.”

"I'll be awake early, trust me.”

“I will bring you food,” she promises. “And water.”

“Yes. In the morning. You must go now.”

Chenoa doesn’t want to leave him, but there is no choice. She rises quickly and moves toward the door before she can change her mind. At the door, she turns once more as if to assure herself she didn’t dream him up. He gazes back at her with dark liquid eyes and gives her a weary smile. She smiles back, excitement and joy flooding through her.

1978 - Almagre Mountain, outside of Colorado Springs

The two wolves trudged gracefully through the dense woods. The moon was so bright that even in the dark, he could make out her shape, her shimmering black coat a stark contrast against the snow.

Jannah knew the woods here well, and she led the way. Even as his human brain had taken a backseat to the wolf rising in him, he marveled at the sharpening of his senses, tuning into every small sound, every smell. He followed a few steps behind her, pausing mid-step when she stopped; his nose twitched, and he knew what it was: a buck. 

She had told him that afternoon, at the cabin, that under no circumstances would they kill a doe or a fawn--bucks only. Killing a doe would orphan a helpless fawn, and she would not allow that. 

“Well, what if you’re starving? Can you make an exception then?”

Jannah clucked her tongue. “There’s plenty of prey in the woods. Avoid mothers at babies at all costs, the same way you would avoid killing a human,” she warned with a cocked eyebrow.

“But it’s part of the natural process,” he tried.

“Flip, what we are i _sn’t_ natural,” she reminded him with a gentle shake of her head. “Don’t forget that.”

He rolled his tongue around his cheek and said nothing. He could see there was no sense in arguing with her.

Spying them, the buck sprang forward and Jannah lunged into the chase, Flip close on her heels. They sprint, but the buck is lightning fast. Flip moved swiftly, closer and closer to Jannah, and finally passed her. He kept going but the buck escaped, seeming to vanish into the woods. Disappointed, he turned to meet her eyes, lowering his snout in apology. Jannah calmly approached and nuzzled him affectionately. .

_It’s okay. That was your first try._ _There will be plenty more._

They continue to pad through the snow, two magnificent apex predators. When they grew tired of navigating the thickest part of the woods, they wandered back to the clearing. They managed to catch a few rabbits and a chipmunk. It helped, but it wasn't really enough to truly sate their hunger.

But of course, they are not real wolves. They could always return to the cabin and raid the refrigerator after sunrise. By then, they'll resume their human form. 

Hours went by and there were no more deer. Flip was feeling bit weary, unused to the exercise. The thought of curling up on a bed was really appealing now, but he still felt the need to prove himself. He needed to show her that he could do what he should as a wolf. Needed to prove it to himself, too.

As if reading his thoughts, Jannah turned to head back in the direction of the cabin. 

_Come. We will rest and hunt again later._


End file.
